


Cyanthropy:- Dean's New Favorite Word

by deanandsam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, tags as the fic progresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23065171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanandsam/pseuds/deanandsam
Summary: A were-hound, a human and a car accident. The start of a beautiful friendship.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Cyanthropy:- Dean's New Favorite Word

The creature dragged its small body through the bushes, its mangled back leg only allowing it to crawl a couple of inches at a time, while simultaneously trying to ignore the terrible pain from the open wound.  
But it couldn’t stop, its only slim hope of survival was to reach the nearby stream and cross, try to confuse the pack which was chasing him. Otherwise, his short life would be over, terminated by the new leader of the group who had no intention of leaving the offspring of the former pack leader alive.  
The pup’s mother, now bound to the newcomer as spoils of war, had pleaded with the victor of the fight, her heart already broken by the sight of her beloved’s body torn and bloody on the ground, to let her baby live; that he wouldn’t be a danger to his authority.  
Her cub understood the rules of the pack, she beseeched him. Her son would abide by them.

But this new boss was deaf to all her appeals. The vanquished hound’s pup needed to die and the new offspring she would bear him would soon make her forget about her first-born.

The pup would never know if it was just good luck, coincidence or the certainty on the pursuers’ part that he was already dead, but once he’d made it across the narrow ribbon of water, he collapsed, exhausted, unable to take a step further.  
‘If I’m to die, then so be it.’ The pup’s last words were muttered in surrender before his body switched off and he fell into darkness. 

When he opened his eyes again, the puppy had no idea how much time had passed, only that his leg throbbed as if a thousand daggers were stabbing viciously at it and that his belly was painfully empty.  
He was still alive though and the young were-hound wasn’t sure if that was a curse or a blessing. What was he to do now? Seriously wounded, driven out from his pack and with nowhere to go, what chance did he have for survival? He couldn’t even satisfy his hunger. Maybe he’d die of starvation or fill the belly of some predator looking for weak prey.  
But the pup was made of stubborn. He dragged himself to his feet and favoring his three good legs, continued on. 

Dean Winchester exited the bar, a wad of cash sitting comfortably in his back pocket. He’d had a decent run of luck and for the next few days, enough money for a motel room, food and gas for his car. Good enough for now.  
He wasn’t the kind of guy who planned for the future. One day at a time was Dean’s philosophy. It had worked fine until now, he didn’t see any reason to change it.

The black car was parked in the lot. A classic Impala, the young man’s pride and joy, the only thing he owned other than the clothes on his back.  
He slipped into the leather seat, the familiar odor welcoming him in. The car’s interior was spick and span, Dean kept it in better shape than any housewife kept her apple pie house, not that he would know; that kind of life was something he’d never experienced.  
The lights and music of the bar were left behind in his rear-view mirror as he turned the heavy car onto the main road. The locale was a biker bar in the middle of nowhere and given the late hour, Dean decided there was no use spending his hard-earned cash on a motel room for the rest of the night. It’d be dawn soon, he’d find a rest stop somewhere and doze off in the car.

As his tires ate up the miles, his eyelids began to droop; only the sensation of the car sidling uncontrolled across the blacktop jarred him awake. Just as with a hissed ‘fuck’ did he take back control of the wheel, he felt a thump against the left side of the bodywork.  
‘What the…?’ He must’ve hit something while the Impala was slipping across the road. To be honest Dean’s worry was more for the fact that the car might have been damaged than for whatever he’d hit but it was only good sense to take a look.

At the side of the door, curled up in a ball of bloody fur was something which resembled a small dog, its mangled body and the darkness making it difficult to see exactly what was wrong or if it was even still alive. Dean quickly pulled a flashlight from the glove compartment and shone it on the animal.  


It didn’t react to the light focused on it and Dean was ready to pronounce it dead, when an eyelid fluttered and then opened with a struggle, to reveal a bloodshot eye looking up at the light before blinking closed again.  


Dean wasn’t a particularly sentimental guy, the job he did had flushed most of his finer emotions down the plughole. Usually giving succor to roadkill wouldn’t be in his notes but the sight of the poor lacerated body echoed in a part of him that he’d thought lost.  
He was tempted to leave it there, the pup would probably die anyway but he just couldn’t. …  


With an infinite gentleness he never thought to possess, he took an old blanket from the boot, placed it on the ground and carefully lifted the broken body onto it.  
The eye never opened again to acknowledge the movement but the trembling of the body told him the dog was still alive.  
‘Well there goes my win,’ he muttered to himself. ‘The nearest vet’s gonna end up getting my hard-earned cash.’ 

There was a medium-sized town up ahead and it wasn’t long before Dean found an all-night animal clinic.  
When he stumbled in with the bloody, wounded pup, the receptionist stared at it in horror, not even asking him the standard questions, merely taking it from his arms and running into the surgery.  


‘Wait there,’ was all she said.  
‘I found it on the road,’ Dean called after her. But he was talking to empty space.  
He looked down at his hands. There were streaks of blood from the pup’s wounds. He noted the sign for a bathroom next to the desk and went inside.  
Dean cleaned himself up, cursing at the red spots on his shirt and jacket. He mopped them off as best he could with a bunch of tissues then went back out into the waiting area.  


He was torn between leaving some cash on the desk and taking off into the night or waiting around to hear the vet's verdict.  
If the pup made it, then the vet would take it to the pound. Surely some kind person would adopt it.  
Instead of leaving, though, he found himself pacing the floor.  
It was his fault the pup was suffering, it was only right to wait and see if it would be okay.

After what seems hours, the vet emerged.  
‘’Mr…?’  
‘Uh…Campbell.’  
‘Mr. Campbell. Is the dog yours?’  


‘No, It must have crossed the road just as I was passing and bumped into the side of my car.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Really bad luck for the little dude as I must have been the only vehicle on that black-top for miles around.’  


‘Yes, well. Though the puppy struck the car, its wounds aren’t consistent with a road accident. They’re more indicative of a fight or of being mauled by another animal. In any case, they’re serious. In my opinion, it should have died with the gravity of them. But he seems to be a tough little guy and given rest and time there’s no reason he won’t get back to full health.  
I’ve attended to his wounds, the one on his leg is particularly ugly, needing a series of stitches and a cast. He won’t be able to put any weight on it for a couple of weeks. So I would advise you to carry the pup around until it’s healed.’  


‘Uh, just a moment. The dog’s not mine and I can’t take him with me. I travel the country for work and looking after a dog just isn’t possible.’  


The vet turned a pair of sad eyes on him. ‘ I understand, but if he goes to the pound, there’s no telling what his fate might be if he doesn’t find someone willing to take him. Couldn’t you look after him, just until he’s well again, then you can consider what to do?  
After all, you were concerned enough to bring in a stray dog. It could be company for you on your travels. Dogs are very adaptable you know. I’ve seen the most improbable people coming in here, totally in love with their furry friends.’  


Dean wondered if as well as being a vet, the doc was also a hypnotist, for he found himself agreeing to take the pup. As it had to remain in the surgery for the night because of the anesthetic, he was told to come and collect it the next afternoon.  
To this day, Dean still asked himself why he hadn’t taken off and left the pup behind but sometimes there are turning points in one’s existence and for the young Winchester this was one of them.

:::::::::::::::::::::::  
The next day, he bought a wicker basket and a couple of cushions and made his way to the clinic.  
The same receptionist as the night before was at the desk. She gave him a quick nod.  
‘I’ll call the doctor for you.’

‘Mr. Campbell. It’s nice to see you,’ the doctor said with a smile as she entered the room. ‘I wasn’t really sure if you’d turn up. I’m glad you did.’  
Dean acknowledged her words with a nod. He hadn’t been sure either.  


‘I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that the puppy seems much better this morning. I must say for all his small size and the seriousness of his wounds, he seems to be making a quick recovery. He’s such a sweetheart, I’m sure you’ll come to love him.’

Dean was getting ready to object, when the receptionist came into the are with the puppy curled up in her arms, only the bandaged and splintered leg outthrust like the stick of a popsicle.  
‘There you go,‘ she said, holding out the puppy and waiting for Dean to take him.  


Dean glanced almost suspiciously at the animal as if it were some monster that was about to attack him.

The receptionist took his hesitation as fear of hurting the wounded puppy.

‘You can hold him. It won’t hurt,’ she assured him.

Dean wondered just what he’d got himself into but when the pup was ensconced awkwardly in his arms, he found himself gazing down at the ball of fluff with a kind of satisfaction.

The pup turned its face up towards him and Dean found himself being studied in turn by a pair of very unusual hazel eyes. If it hadn’t been impossible, Dean could've sworn they were more human than animal.  
With a parting nod to the women and some mumbled words of thanks, Dean made his way back to the Impala.

‘Little guy,’ he said to the puppy. ’I’m guessing you and I are gonna keep each other company for a while, so I suppose you should have a name. I can’t keep calling you ‘dude’.'  


The puppy held his gaze as if considering Dean’s words and all of a sudden he found a name popping into his mind. ‘How about Sammy? Huh? You like that?’  
As he placed the dog in the cushioned basket on the back seat, he could’ve sworn the pup gave a quasi-human huff.  
tbc


End file.
